


One Last Try

by Darkestsiren



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestsiren/pseuds/Darkestsiren
Summary: After three and a half years in New York, Justin finally goes home to Pittsburg to give love one last try.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of semi-quick one shots that are basically just me imagining how things may have gone after the show ended. I was feeling super angsty and sad when I wrote these so… I hope you like them.  
> I am going to be posting all of these separately so keep an eye out.

Justin sat on the bus, his stomach in knots. What would Brian think, he wondered. What would he say?  
It had been a year. He hadn’t seen Brian in a year. After Justin had moved to New York they’d seen each other a handful of times. At Christmas when he was home to see his mother and sister. Once in the summer when he came home to lick his wounds after a particularly brutal review of his show. Brian had welcomed him then, smiled when Justin appeared at his door.  
But they’d fought that time. About nothing in particular, nothing meaningful, but it had been vicious nonetheless. They’d both said things. Things a person can’t take back. You only love yourself. You can’t be loved.  
You’re a codependent doormat. That was Justin’s favorite. The one that had sent him running for the door. He’d done a lot of thinking after that. A lot of self-examination. A lot of self-discovery.  
Thing was, he had been codependent. He had been holding on to the idea of Brian, not the reality. He hadn’t been allowing Brian to be who he really was, he hadn’t been loving the man in front of him, but the man in his mind. The one he’d created.  
Justin shifted in his seat, anxious again. What if this was a horrible mistake? What if Brian wanted nothing to do with him? What if Brian didn’t love him anymore?  
Justin’s lips tightened around his teeth as he pushed down a wave of fear. It was too painful to think about, the idea that Brian could have stopped loving him. Even after their fight…  
He hadn’t stopped loving Brian. He never would. He knew that as surely as he knew he needed oxygen or food. It was instinct. It was… always.  
The bus pulled into the Pittsburg station and parked, a torrent of steam escaping from its warm, metal underbelly. Justin looked out the window at the familiar scape and drew in a deep, shaky breath. This was it. If Brian’s feelings had changed this would be the end of them. The absolute end.  
He had to know. 

It had been a year.  
Justin had lived in New York for three years, seven months, and six days. He’d rented a shitty apartment, made as much art as he could manage, went to every gallery there was. He’d had a few shows, sold a few paintings. Had a few good reviews. But nothing spectacular. No crazy, unwarranted success. Just enough to get by. Not even that really. He still had to work at the local diner. Thank god for Debbie and her diner boot camp. He’d have starved if he wasn’t so good at waiting tables for prissy gay boys.  
No, he hadn’t made it big. But he hadn’t failed either. He was still waiting for his big break, for that one piece, that one critic that would make him. And he was so tired of waiting.  
He wasn’t really waiting, Justin knew. He was hiding. The truth was since moving to New York he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. It had taken him a while to figure out what it was. When he’d arrived he’d been heartbroken, of course, but he’d also been excited for his new life, eager to paint. To show the world what he was made of. After a few months of painting meaningless, uninspired cityscapes, he realized there was a hole in his life.  
For five years, five very formative years, Brian had been there, front and center, cheering him on, enticing him to passion, creation, anger, lust, fear, anguish, love. He’d been there, in his life, in his heart, in his body. In his being. Suddenly living without him was a shock at every level.  
Justin had always turned to art as a means of coping. But now, with his muse gone, his art felt… empty. He still painted, of course. He had plenty of stored up Brian angst to fuel a hundred new paintings. But with each one the paint seemed to stick more, blend less, coagulate where it shouldn’t and smear where he didn’t want.  
It wasn’t just painting. He’d tried to date, after a while. He never went long without sex, but he couldn’t seem to muster any interest in anything else. Whenever he thought about it, he just ached for the one person he couldn’t have. The only person he’d ever truly loved. Brian. 

Justin slung his bag over his shoulder and disembarked, his stomach still in knots. He walked to the corner and hailed a cab, gave the driver the address and sat back in the seat, trying to breathe.  
This was it. It had been a year. A year of silence. A year of pain, of regret, of want. A year of realizations.  
He loved Brian, no matter what. If Brian needed to fuck other guys to be happy, fine. If Brian wouldn’t give him the picket fence he’d dreamed of, fine. He didn’t really need that anyway. If Brian wanted to pretend that he didn’t need Justin just as much as Justin needed him, fine. Justin knew the truth and that was all that mattered.  
Besides, Brian had said he loved him. And he must, to sacrifice his own happiness for Justin’s success, to step back so Justin could shine. To give up the one person in his life that he needed most because he thought it was what Justin needed.  
Turns out it wasn’t.  
But you had to try before you could know for sure, right?  
And Justin had tried. He’d tried for three and a half years and here he was, back at Brian’s door, ready to beg if he had to.  
I love you. I need you. I’m miserable without you. Brian would never, could never admit to that, but Justin could. Justin would.  
The cab pulled up and Justin paid the driver and climbed out of the car. He stood on the sidewalk looking up at Brian’s loft, squinting against the glare of the street light. It was late, but not too late. He’d timed his arrival carefully. Late enough that Brian would be home from work, not so late that he’d be out at the clubs already.  
Justin closed his eyes and curled his lips in between his teeth, biting down hard. He gathered his strength, breathing it in with each breath. He knew this was right, knew what he wanted. He’d had enough of living like this, like a starved man. Always searching for something he’d already found but couldn’t have.  
What if Brian didn’t love him anymore?  
Justin swallowed bile and trudged up to the door. He still had his key, thank god, and he unlocked the door and let himself into the lobby as silently as possible. Every screech and scrape of the door hinges seemed deafening, lashing at his already taut nerves. He got into the elevator and shut the door. It went up.  
Justin leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. What would it really do? Prove to Brian once and for all that they belonged together? That they should stop fighting it and just let fate take control? That he wasn’t the same immature kid Brian had picked up that night eight years ago?  
The elevator stopped. Justin heaved his bag back up onto his shoulder and opened the door. The six steps to Brian’s front door had never seemed so hard to cross. One foot, then the other.  
This was it.  
He knocked.  
No going back now.  
Silence.  
Justin held his breath. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away. He wanted to fall at Brian’s feet and beg him to take him back.  
The door slid open.  
Justin looked up. There he was, the love of his life, in jeans and a t-shirt, hair mussed, eyes hooded. Brian stared at him in shock, a myriad of emotions playing over his face.  
“What…? How are…?” Brian breathed, clearly shaken.  
“Don’t say anything,” Justin said, meeting Brian’s brown eyes, begging silently. “Just kiss me.”  
A beat of stillness passed and then Brian’s hands came up. He cupped Justin’s face and pulled him in, his mouth lush and urgent. That kiss said everything Justin knew Brian could never say out loud. That he loved him, still. That he’d been a shell of himself without Justin, that he’d been starving without him, just like Justin had. Justin melted into the kiss, answering each confession with one of his own. He kissed him gratefully, feeling real again for the first time way too long.  
After several minutes Justin became aware of someone else in the loft. A man. Brian ignored him completely. He was handsome, young, blond, thin, not unlike Justin himself. He emerged from the bedroom in a state of semi-dress, took in the scene in the open doorway, and finished dressing, a little smile on his lips.  
“So, I’ll just be going then,” the man said, unperturbed.  
Brian didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge him. Justin pulled away from Brian slightly, shot the man a sheepish look and steered Brian out of the doorway so the other could pass.  
“Friend of yours?” Justin asked, smiling, once the man had gone.  
“Nope.” Brian kissed down the column of his neck, the heat of his tongue sending a wave of heat down Justin’s spine.  
“Good,” Justin gasped, hips pushing against Brian’s as Brian nipped at the tender spot beneath his ear.  
Brian hummed his approval and pressed him back against the closed door, his leg wedged between Justin’s. He kissed Justin with bruising force, almost savagely, taking what he could for as long as it was offered. That was how it always was with Brian. He took what he needed while he could get it, unsure of how long it would be offered. Justin offered. He offered up everything he was, everything he had.  
Justin reached for the button on Brian’s pants, flipping it open and reaching inside. Brian shuddered against him, his breathing spiking as Justin palmed him. Brian curled into him, his face buried in Justin’s neck, and just stood there while Justin touched him. Justin stroked Brian slowly, enjoying the hard, supple length beneath his hand, the familiar shape, the simple joy of being with him like this.  
“I love you,” Justin said softly. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”  
Brian swallowed, hunched lower, held him tighter. Justin stroked faster. He laced his fingers through Brian’s hair, held him tight.  
“No matter what, I love you.” Justin told him. “I need to be with you.”  
Brian came, gasping into Justin’s neck, his hands tight on his hip, around his waist. He stilled then, his head bowed against Justin’s shoulder, silent. Unsure, Justin realized, waiting, afraid.  
“I know I said a lot of shit last time I was here,” Justin told him quietly. “Some of it was true and some of it was my crap I was putting on you. I’ve spent the last year thinking about us, about me, about you, about life and what I want out of it. And one thing I know for sure. I want you, Brian. Whatever else, I want you. And it’s my life, so it’s my choice, not yours. You’re stuck with me.”  
Justin felt Brian shaking against him and realized he was laughing. Confused, Justin frowned, pulling away to look into Brian’s face.  
“I don’t know how you do it, Sunshine, but you always manage to surprise me,” Brian smiled.  
Justin felt the knot in his stomach release, finally. He smiled and leaned his head against Brian’s. “I’m moving back to Pittsburg,” he said, biting his lip.  
Brian shook his head. “No, Justin, you’re not.”  
Justin hardened his resolve. He wouldn’t let Brian dictate to him anymore. “It’s not your decision.”  
Brian grinned, kissed him. “No, it’s not. But I’m opening a New York office so…”  
Justin pulled back in surprise. “What?”  
Brian put on his bashful look. “I’ve been working on it since…”  
“Since?”  
“Your last visit.”  
“When we had that horrible fight?” Justin asked, frowning.  
Brian nodded. “I knew then that I was going to lose you if I didn’t do something.” He looked down, blushing adorably. “It took longer than I would have liked.”  
Justin just stared at Brian. All this time and Brian had been working toward moving to New York to be with him? “And you said I was surprising,” he teased, knowing full well that if he hadn’t come here, proclaimed his feelings, Brian never would have actually made that move. It wasn’t in Brian to assume someone would want him around, love him just for being him.  
Justin kissed him again, slowly this time, tenderly. Brian reached around and picked him up, staggering awkwardly to the bedroom where he laid him down on the bed. They made love like they never had before, eyes open, seeing everything the other person was, inside and out. Justin welcomed Brian inside him and they moved together like notes in a symphony, their own passioned chorus rising higher and higher until they both shattered against each other, singing each other’s names into the quiet night.  
After, wrapped in each other’s arms, Justin told Brian about the last year in New York and how lonely he’d been, how much he’d learned about himself and what he wanted out of life. How much he’d missed Brian, how much he’d regretted their fight, how much he’d missed him. He told him about the galleries, the tepid reviews, the hours spent painting, uninspired. That Brian was his muse. His passion. The one person he couldn’t live without.  
Brian told him about the last year too. That he’d retreated from the world after Justin had left that last time. That he’d thrown himself into work, all but stopped clubbing. How he only went out when the itch to fuck got too great to bear. How he kind of hated it now, how each empty fuck left him feeling more and more hollow inside. How he’d started talking to Ted about real shit. Shit he’d been ignoring his whole life. Like how his father had treated him, how his mother had been so cold when he was young, how he’d never felt like he was loved, or cared for.  
Justin curled around him even tighter at that, wishing he’d been there to tell him that he deserved so much better. “You don’t have to be afraid, Brian,” he said quietly, drawing his fingertips over Brian’s arm. “I’ll never stop loving you.”  
Brian was silent a long time after that but his frame was relaxed, his breathing peaceful. Justin stroked him gently, waiting.  
“Neither will I, Sunshine,” Brian said at last. He raised his head and kissed Justin, easy and sure, like a promise.  
They settled back into silence after that, still caressing each other, but lazily, sleepily.  
“Hey,” Brian said after a while. “I want to ask you something.”  
“Ok.”  
Brian sat up so he could see Justin clearly. “What made you come here today?”  
Justin smiled. “I’ve known for a while what I needed to do. I had a few things I had to do in New York before I could leave. And…” Justin bit his lip, looking up at Brian through his lashes. “Today is the anniversary of the first time we made love. The day I fell in love with you.”  
Brian grinned and tipped his chin down. “I fell in love with you that day too,” he admitted. It was the first time.  
Justin gaped.  
“What?” Brian asked, defensive.  
Justin smiled, leaned up and kissed Brian, pulling him down with a hand behind his neck. Brian laughed, pulling back after a moment. He got up, opened a drawer in his night stand and took out a small box.  
“You kept them?” Justin wondered aloud.  
Brian opened the box. Inside were two identical rings. “Justin Taylor,” Brian said, his tone serious. “Would be my husband? For real this time?”  
Justin stared up at Brian, wonder and light in his chest. If someone had told him that this day would end here he would never have believed them. His smile was slow but sure. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what your thought.


End file.
